


Animator Files

by ChaosDragon (PlotWitch), PlotWitch



Category: Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter - Laurell K. Hamilton
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 18:08:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14774579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlotWitch/pseuds/ChaosDragon, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlotWitch/pseuds/PlotWitch
Summary: This is going to be a massive dump file for all of the outlines and ideas I've had over the years for Anita Blake.





	1. Spellbound

**Author's Note:**

> This was a role playing scenario I had gamed out many years ago in the summer of 1999 with another AB writer, Senna Ran. I always said I’d plot them out and make them proper fics. I started to, but after book 10 I just couldn't continue on apparently, because of how badly LKH had done them all, and also because of some real changes that left me languishing in boot camp with an injury for nearly a year. It doesn’t follow the game exactly, but I thought it would have worked better this way.

0

Ordinarily Edward wouldn’t have been worried about his current situation. It wasn’t often that anyone got the better of him in a gunfight, but Anita had never specified her trouble as humans with guns. She’d just asked for his help and he’d said yes, packing for werebear so to speak, and ready for fun.

Instead of hunting preternatural creatures, bullets were flying past his head while he tried to get Anita back into his line of sight. She’d disappeared seconds before trying to get a better angle for returning fire. Edward himself was laying cover fire. He was also cursing her name for running off. Her last fire fight had been ugly, but she’d lived by the grace of God.

Or rather, his experience.

The gunfire ceased abruptly, though he could only tell by the lack of vibration—his hearing was deafened by repeated fire, and Edward took a moment to sneak a peak around the corner he was crouched in. He extended a small mirror attached to a rod past the edge and saw nothing but dust and splintered wood. There was no sign of Anita, no bodies on the ground-which was odd because he knew he’d hit at least three.

He adjusted his grip on the thin piece of metal and tilted it to show the room as it was directly behind him where he crouched on one side of the wall. His jaw clenched and he bit back a curse as he counted several bodies down, yes, but one still standing, and he eased around the corner on his knees.

One still standing and still holding his weapon, a sleek and deadly Smith & Wesson M&P 45 .9mm, the cold barrel pointed directly at the base of Anita’s skull. She was kneeling, execution style, hands crossed at the small of her back, eyes closed.

His hearing came back just in time to hear her say, “Well, shit,” and then the sound of a single gunshot was reverberating through his skull as he yanked himself back behind the door. Edward was on automatic as he dropped the almost spent clip in his Beretta and slid a new one home.

The gun was a comforting weight in his hands and he pressed the top of the barrel against his forehead, hoping the cool metal would help him focus. He didn’t dare look now, not even to make sure Anita was dead. If he did, chances were he’d end up dead too.

Though that was wildly preferable to what he knew was coming. Maybe not now, maybe not tonight. But sometime soon. It was coming.

For another few moments his mind was blessedly empty, clean and blank and not reminding him of what he’d just seen. And then he broke years of training and a screaming sense of self preservation. He crawled forward and looked beyond the doorway.

The sight was what he’d expected and had desperately hoped he wouldn’t find. Anita was lying there, thick curls spread around her face, hiding the gaping wound he knew would be there instead of her lower jaw and throat. All he could see was a spreading pool of deep red, slick and steaming against the cool wood that her body lay on.

Flecks of blood had somehow sprayed up her face so that a line of spattered red crept up her face, bright red against the pale ivory of her skin. Her eyes were wide and surprised, staring at nothing but seeming to see everything, him included. Accusations sprang from the depths and he lurched back to lean against the wall, eyes closed and throat working convulsively against his fear.

A slight shift in the air in front of him made him open his eyes. For a fraction of a second he only felt the warmth of a recently fired gun against his forehead. In the next fraction he thought maybe he should be afraid.

And then he thought nothing. He never even felt the bullet as it entered his brain.

 

There were only a few hours left in the night when Edward strode across the lobby of his hotel. At the time, the clerk on duty contemplated calling the police. Instead he picked up the phone intending to call the hotel manager down from his room on the second floor, where he was having a quickie with a maid.

But within moments of Edward's passing by, the wave hit and the clerk was left staring at the handset wondering what he’d been doing with it. It never occurred to him that anything about his perception of reality had been altered, so he placed the phone back into its cradle and continued on with his business.

He was not alone in the elevator. A handsome couple was also on their way up to the eighth floor, but for now the slipped to the far side of the elevator, terrified of the man they rode with. Edward was not covered in blood, but there was enough running down his face to give a frightening visage.

When the wave passed them as they were somewhere between the sixth and seventh floors, a blank look came across their faces for a moment. Edward was watching them, and saw when it happened, and his expression darkened. Instead of a frightening visage, he now looked like a pagan blood god as they stared without recognition, no longer remembering when he stepped onto the elevator with them.

The woman gasped and her hand went to her throat, fingers spread over the jeweled choker that perfectly accented the royal blue cocktail dress she wore. The man next to her only tightened his hold on her and eased them closer to the door. Seconds later it slid open and they exited.

Edward was still on the elevator on his way to the twelfth floor when the man called the front desk and asked for the manager. When he explained about the blood covered man in the elevator the manager laughed. He had been called down from his jaunt to take the call.

He called up the list of registered visitors and told the man there was nothing to worry about. Ted Forrester was a guest of the hotel and often stayed there when working with Anita Blake.

Suitably mollified, the man and his wife went to bed, the manager back to his whore, and the desk clerk never knew anything was not as it seemed. Edward’s passing from one wave of reality to the next was unmarked by anything or anyone of importance, and no one even knew that something was not right.

Not even the woman who was waiting for him in his room.

 

1

When Edward stepped through the door of his hotel room, he knew something was not right. Something was very, very wrong. It had started again, and the thought was unbearable. Frustrated, he pulled his jacket off and threw it onto the floor in a corner. His bloodstained shirt followed with a quick tug and a cursory wiping of his face, trying to remove the blood from it.

It only succeeded in smearing the blood into his hair, the shirt was much to bloody to help with a clean-up, and he stalked into the kitchen area. He thrust his head under the faucet at the sink and turned the water to full blast, not flinching despite the icy coolness of the water.

After a minute or so, he stood, letting the water run down his naked torso and snaking through the remaining blood in pink rivulets. He caught a glimpse of himself in the chrome of the sink and laughed harshly. His eyes were a little crazy as squeezed his hands through his hair, most of the water flowing freely down his neck and leaving his pale hair in small golden curls.

It had grown, he thought, since the last time this had happened. Maybe if it happened again he’d think about getting it cut.

Without thinking about it, he headed back into the living room area and pulled a longish black leather bag from beneath the recliner. Unzipping it, he withdrew a slim black case and flipped it open. Inside was what passed for either a long knife or a small sword.

It was slim and slender, dainty despite the sharp length of blade that ran for almost two feet before it tapered into a point. The hilt was simple enough, straight steel with balled tips, the handle wrapped with deep gray leather and ending in a rounded pommel that was unremarkable. A beautiful blade, elegant in its simplicity and radiating death.

It had never been used though he’d bought it years before, shortly after this hell had begun. But long enough ago that he no longer remembered the original reason he’d bought it nor who he’d bought it from. Not that it mattered, it would be put to good use now, he thought and laughed darkly.

The blade winked sharply at him in the light as he dropped to his knees in the middle of the room, settling back so that he was kneeling. He carefully slipped the hilt between his thighs, holding it there.

There was no reason to check its sharpness, it was sharper than the day he’d gotten it. But he ran a finger up the cutting edge anyway and an eerie smile came across his face as crimson stained his finger and slid down the steel, marring the silver color.

He paused for a moment, tilting his head to one side and trying to discern the best angle for the cut, and then took a breath. Not a deep one, he wasn’t afraid of pain or blood or even death. No, he only needed to steady his hands to keep the cuts from being jagged.

He sliced his wrists up quickly and deeply. The blade was sharper than he thought and had cut down through tendon and muscle, very nearly into the bone. He gave a sharp gasp as the first wave of pain and weakness swamped over him and his body loosened a bit, allowing the knife to fall forward, blade away from him.

Edward stared at the mess of his wrists, curious at the pale flashes of glistening bone that showed. He could see a fine cut in each of them from the knife and for a moment admired the way its steel held an edge. Then he began to lean back until he was flat on the floor, his blood spilling on to the pale carpet and spreading down around him.

He was getting weak very quickly and he gauged that in a few minutes at the most he would be dead. Blessed relief, if he could have it.

It was only then that he heard the startled cry from the open bedroom door and, rolling his head to one side, saw Anita standing there, her mouth open and eyes wide in shock.

 

It hadn’t been to hard finding out which hotel Edward was staying at, Anita mused silently as she slipped in the room with the key card she’d conned the front desk out of. The manager had been sufficiently impressed that one of his guests had ties with a local celebrity of sorts and thought nothing of letting her go on up to wait for Edward.

Edward wasn’t there, as she’d known he wouldn’t be. She figured he was at her house waiting on her; she’d given him the slip by telling him the wrong time for the meeting. But no one had shown and there’d been no need for his back up anymore. She’d come to the hotel to tell him she was safe again and he was free to leave.

As she closed the door behind her Anita glanced around. She had the distinct feeling that she was doing something wrong, like a little girl sneaking a piece of candy before dinner. Of course, it could only be her conscience telling her not to snoop like she wanted to. In which case, why listen to it? Edward wouldn’t be there for hours and she was ready to be nosy.

It proved top be singularly ineffective. There were no weapons of mass destruction laying around. No papers or documents hidden anywhere. The only thing of any interest was the laptop on the bed in his room. His room. She snickered. Trust Edward to get a full suite and have a separate bedroom.

She sat down on the bed and laid back onto her side, pulling the laptop out of its case and toward her. She smiled as she flipped it open, powering it up and reading the start screen. It was a chance that was too good to resist, the opportunity to see what Edward thought was important enough to carry around with him.

 

 

CLIFF NOTES VERSION:

Edward killed Anita the first time they met. Granny Blake didn’t like that and made a deal with a loa (Ghede Nibo) to lock Edward in a time loop, destined to be tied to her forever. He’s been stuck for a LONG time, has gradually fallen in love with her. In past he’s killed her, killed himself, she’s killed him, they’ve bitten it from bad guys and the boys, etc. He’s also tortured her, raped her, other terrible things.

Once this loop restarts (Edward always remembers EVERYTHING from before) Edward heads for his hotel after killing these bad guys without Anita. He doesn’t know she’s already there and walks in, pulls knife out of bag and kneels, holding it between thighs. He slices wrists up it, nearly cutting hands off. He wants to die. He’s going slowly insane. Anita comes out to find him dying and he barely has strength to wonder if she’ll be aware of him coming back, she’s never been around to witness him die so will she remember? He dies, she’s upset and tries to figure out who to call, 911, Dolph, who?, when he begins to stir, his wrists knitting themselves together. Not visibly, but noticeably. Like watching something out of the corner of your eye, it’s the only way you can tell. Then fireworks.

He has to tell Anita, she doesn’t believe him at first but he convinces her and then she freaks completely. Can’t believe granny would do it. Feels major guilt and decides to do the one thing that has NEVER EVER happened in all the loops: she decides to kill herself. But he can’t let her do that, he loves her. She does manage to hurt herself with the knife, some nice slices. Then she decides they need to figure out how to end the loop.

Miscellaneous attempts here involving spells, trying various forms of death now that she knows. None of it breaks the loop but now when it’s reset Anita remembers that the loop exists and why. After one last attempt where Edward kills Anita, she comes back and asks him why. He refused to tell her before. He gave her the impression that he’d done something to inversely affect Granny’s magic or killed a sacrifice or something. So now he has to tell her that he killed her the very first time they met.

She gets very upset and leaves. He doesn’t try and find her but instead goes on a self murdering spree, determined to find a way to stay dead. Anything is better that him hating her. Eventually she comes back around to find him dead once again. He reanimates in her arms and she calls him stupid. Then she admits that she doesn’t have a clue how to end the loop, maybe they should call Granny and try and get her to revoke it.

Instead somehow they have to end up in bed. Sex ensues and then Edward takes another downward spiral and slices his wrists again. Except this time he can feel something different as he dies. It feels permanent. He tells Anita and she frantically tries to save him and calls 911. We let audience think he’s dead, then flash into ICU. Then we flash to him waking up and Anita there, etc.


	2. Dreamscape

Prologue  
  
He was a boy. A child, really. No more than ten or eleven, pale blond hair, crystalline blue eyes. Skinny. Too skinny. A small, young angel. He would have been, could have been. Except that his hair was matted with dried blood, his eyes vacant as he lay in a pool of it, congealing.  
  
A knife was clutched in one small, fragile hand. Its blade coated, thick and gooey. The handle and the hand, too, as if nothing had been spared in the wave of death.  
  
Slowly he pushed himself to his feet and looked around. There were four bodies near to him. Two looked like so much meat, with jagged pieces of glass protruding from every visible surface. The other two bore the cleaner, neater marks of a knife. His knife, he realized when he looked at his hand, still gripping the slippery handle. The black handle, the cold steel.  
  
The bright red of his own blood mingling with the brown of his parents'.  
  
A deep gash winked at him from his left palm. He stared from it to the wet, serrated edge he'd cut himself with, but he could not remember cutting himself.  
  
He could not remember cutting anything. Yet there were his parents, his priest, and sponsor, all lying there; dead on the ground.  
  
And he had not done it, had he?  
  
The knife slipped from his grip as a pounding from down the hall startled him. He wiped his stained palms against himself, perhaps trying to rid himself of the evidence. The heavy metallic scent of blood was in the air. It coated everything. He could taste it as he breathed in, sickeningly sweet and so rich.  
  
It was the taste of his parents' blood. The priest and sponsors too.  
  
A taste he would never forget.  
  
A taste he would always hate.  
  
The closed door rattled, the knob turned, and blue uniforms flooded the room. Amid the gasps, the boy stood there silently in the blood, his own trickling and dripping to join it.  
  
And as he turned to face his future, his blue eyes were empty, his sweet face blank. And how many times he would use them in the future…

 

1

It was dark when Edward woke, the dream riding the edge of consciousness and his body cold and drenched in sweat from the nightmare. The scar down his left palm itched wildly with imagined blood, and Edward still his fingers before they curled inward to scratch at it. There was nothing there, he realized, and when he tried to call the remainders of the dream forth they flitted away like so much smoke before he managed to grab a hold of it.

All that he could remember was jagged glass and bright, red blood.

It was an image that he’d seen hundreds of times in the course of his life, and there was no real reason why it would make him uncomfortable. But it did. There was no reason for it to confuse him, for it to make him want to curl up deeper underneath the thin sheet across his bed. But it did. He pressed his mind a little harder and was rewarded with an aching emptiness and an overwhelming cold knot in his stomach that he hadn’t felt in a long time: fear.

He scrubbed a hand across his face and through his pale hair as he sat up. It was slightly tangled, more evidence that whatever he had dreamt had bothered him enough to make him sleep restlessly, something unusual for him. Without a sound louder than bare feet on the floor, Edward slipped from his bed and padded softly into the kitchen.

He left the lights off, trusting his memory and the light of a waning moon to guide him as he carefully measured beans, ground them and then set them to brew in his coffeemaker. It was silent again except for the hiss of steaming water running through the machine, and the quiet clink of porcelain as Edward got out a mug, then pulled cream from the refrigerator and sugar from the pantry.

He was on his second cup and still sitting in darkness when the silent click and whir of his answering machine caught his attention. There was no ringing of the phone, he’d turned it off before going to sleep. In fact, he’d had it turned off almost continuously for weeks, his desire to be alone intensified every time someone called to speak to him. To speak to Ted, he acknowledged silently as the generic message played.

A voice followed, soft and a little worried, and he sat back in his chair listening. “Ted, it’s Donna.” A pause. “I just wanted to know when you were coming to pick up the rest of your things. And the kids wanted to see you.” Another pause and she took a breath, and then let it out suddenly. “Just give me a call, okay? Bye.”

There was a click, a dial tone, and then the machine cranked to life as it reset itself.

Edward didn’t move, didn’t even think about going and picking up the phone and calling her back. No, it was safer if he just gave that part of his life a clean death. Cut it off cold, so that the kids wouldn’t be too traumatized. Hope that Donna would quit being concerned and worried. That she’d quit caring. It had worked to an extent. She, at least, had accepted the split reasonably, amicably.

She wanted to be friends.

If he didn’t already know that Donna was an outgoing and overly friendly woman, he’d have suspected her of having ulterior motives. But, and he knew it for truth, there was nothing underhanded about her. She’d been suspicious of Anita, true, but she had realized that Anita had no designs on him. That Anita had enough on her plate already with her current lovers. That even if her suspicions about Edward, Ted rather, and the way he felt about Anita Blake were true, there was absolutely no chance for him with her.

That had been a year and a half ago that Anita had come to Santa Fe, had showed Donna that no matter what happened, there was no hope for Edward in Anita’s life. It had also been the thing that made Donna realize that they, Donna and Ted, were beginning to die a slow and painless death.

They hadn’t ever set a date for the wedding, and as the months went on and she continued asking him, he always put it off. Until Donna had finally asked him why, and he hadn’t had a blithe answer ready to lie to her. He’d been conceited about it, he knew. So sure that he was doing such a good job of keeping Donna where she belonged, as Ted’s significant other, and Anita… And keeping Anita as a business associate and friend.

Donna had walked. Without animosity, true, but she had still walked.

It didn’t matter, de decided as he drained the last of his coffee and took the mug to the sink. He rinsed it out methodically and then put it into the dishwasher before flipping the switch on the coffeemaker to off. With a sigh he listened to the answering machine come to life again, but this time actually paid attention to the message that was left.

“It’s Anita,” came a too familiar voice through the device. “I’ve got a case I need help on. I was wondering if you were interested.” She paused and he heard her sigh tiredly. “I’ll owe you one,” she said finally, and he raised an eyebrow. “Call me if you’re interested.”

There was a click, another whir, and he was pressing the button to listen to the message again. Anita had a case and needed his help. How… interesting, he thought. If only for the chance to see her, he picked the phone up and dialed her number from memory. It rang once, twice, then she was answering it breathless, “Hello?”

“It’s Edward. I’m interested,” he said, a wry smile twisting his lips as he admitted the truth of that statement in more ways than the one she heard.

 

 

The flight had been uneventful compared to some of the things he’d suffered through. At least this time there weren’t redheaded twins behind him constantly bickering and playing practical jokes on anyone they could find. Most especially the people sitting in front of them. He’d refrained from getting their names. The temptation to hunt them down would have been too strong if he’d had that bit of information.

Within twenty minutes of landing Edward had efficiently managed to arrange a rental car, have his bags dropped off at the agency, and was already filling out the paperwork. Not much later he was pulling out of the airport’s highly traveled roadways and into the only slightly less congested freeway that would put him through St. Louis and to the far side of the city where Anita’s house was.

 

 

PLOT:

1

Will start without having given anything. Ended chapter one with Edward smiling and calling and her answering. This chapter is Edward efficiently getting to Anita’s house on his own and a bit of reunion and talk of the case. And her booting people out of her house. She’s spent her time since coming back from Santa Fe solidifying the triumvirate and practicing her magic and getting schooled in it. Tammy, Marianne, and new one who will be the one to tell her that Edward isn’t all he seems. The new one will be present and leaving, dragging Jason along with her. Romantic? Maybe. Something, she’s connected to Jason somehow. Oooh. Maybe a sister? Also will use this chapter to lay out what is known about bad person.

4

Have Anita finishing up a night at work and coming back to the house to find a bleary but alert Edward and the new girl waiting for her. “Oh, right. Training,” Anita manages as she heads for the shower. Comes back out to find new girl acting very odd around Edward and Edward drinking coffee and ‘reading’ the paper. All the while looking like he’s just itching to shoot the witch girl. Go through some training, round it out with a phone call interrupting. Edward will answer and tell Anita it’s for her, it’ll be Dolph telling her they have another crime scene. So she will tell Edward they have a scene to look at and escort witch girl out, with the witch girl admonishing Anita that Edward isn’t what he seems. And Anita saying she knows, it’s fine, she trusts Edward, and girl trying again to have Anita tell her they’ll discuss it tomorrow.

5

Crime scene. Lots of blood and gore, ripped to shreds, impossible type things that will make Edward think back to how he was found as a child. Extend the crime scene as much as possible, then send them to the morgue with the body for the autopsy. It had priority because it’s the sixth murder like this. Edward is all introspective and Anita is falling asleep on her feet, and she has a spat with Dolph because she brought Edward along. Dolph doesn’t want him there and Anita tells Dolph too bad, she’s brought him in with her Fed Marshall status. ‘Ted’ is a well known and respected bounty hunter who has a lot of experience with creatures she’s never even laid eyes on. She tells him that her expertise is limited to vampires and were’s and zombies. Beyond that it’s lacking, and his isn’t. Dolph lets it rest, stalks out with an annoyed glare at Edward.

6

Anita is watching the autopsy with Edward all silent when he asks her quietly if this is a set up. She says no, why? And he says nothing, just lets it rest. After a bit more, once the preliminary stuff is done and its decided that nothing human could have done it, and then a secondary opinion is that neither could a vampire or lycanthrope. “It’s almost like the body was squeezed to death. Everything outside of it is from where it burst.” And then Edward decides to drag Anita home because she’s out on her feet. He knows she’s been up since at least four the previous afternoon, and she needs rest. They get there and he’s doing something with food when she grabs up her keys and starts to head out, has only grabbed a quick shower and changed clothes. “Where are you going,” he asks. “I still have a job to go to,” she answers. And she leaves before anything else can be said.

7

She gets in early the next am and manages another short shower before collapsing across her bed in her towel and nothing else, sleeps till the doorbell rings and jolts her awake. It’ll be witch girl, and there will be general annoyance from Edward over how she needs more than two hours of sleep, and she’ll tell him to can it, she works on her teacher’s schedule. So Edward will mosey off as Anita settles in for another lesson, which girl cuts short because she wants Anita to understand that she isn’t’ talking about Edward and secret identities and whatnot. She knows from Jason (whom she talked to after Anita brushed her off) that Edward ahs two separate lives. She mans that he doesn’t have a magical nature, and Anita says she knows already. Witch girl pops out with, “He tastes of psionics.” Which will lead Anita in to another brush off, and girl telling her to look into it, and Anita beginning to look into it.

8

More of Anita looking in to it at the cost of sleep, and giving info on the phenomena. And include an example that could be case specific to the Anitaverse: a gold medal winner at the Olympics in recent history who was disqualified when it was learned they had used telekinesis to ensure they didn’t miss any targets in the archery competition. Which will have Anita beginning to look at Edward like it cold be true. Except, she notes, he doesn’t seem to think he’s anything but a normal human. She’s interrupted by Edward and some research he’s done, throw out a few possibilities for creature suspects, and Anita nods and says she wants to run a search on unsolved cases that might be related. Edward tells her he’ll take care of it, she should get some rest. So she agrees with him, resolving to do the search on her own.

9

So we’ll open with her at the station after her last raising. Maybe 2 am, going through the search with a little help from a throwaway cop. She’ll compile a few dozen or so things that fit the bill, and then she’ll cut it by 2/3’s when she glances at the info and sees that this one was solved, that one is obviously a vampire or lycanthrope attack, so on. And she’ll have eleven things that fit the bill left, and have them printed and steal Dolph’s office to go over them. And seven out of eleven fit in perfectly, and as a matter of fact are from the last few years. Three she puts in the possible pile, because they could be but she thinks that they’re old enough not to be related to this particular case. Talking fifty years or so. And one left, being from 17 years before, about a little boy found in the middle of a bloodbath. (Write article to be read within chapter. He was/is telekinetic and some slight bit of a telepath. But he was shunned for it. Family, friends-the few he had- teachers and strangers. Even his clergy-his church. He was Roman Catholic, orthodox, and his parents were members of a very strict sect at that. They would beat him, starve him; lock him in a room without food or water for days on end. All to try and make the “devil” in him leave. Until one day he snapped.) And she’ll take it with her and go home. New section where she lays down to rest for a bit but can’t, and gets up and cooks and brews and waits for Edward to join her. And when he does she asks him what he found out. He hands her ten case files he made, with everything he could find. He tells her that he thinks there are a couple not related, but the rest are possibilities. And she glances through and sees things she’s already looked at. So she turns around and lifts a sheet of paper from the counter, hands it to him, and says, “What about this?” And he’ll go very, very pale as he reads it, and new chapter.

10

“How—where—why?” he’ll say helplessly. “Because somebody told me that you weren’t what you seemed.” Some talk of it, Edward doesn’t really remember anything before he woke up. His name is really Edward, new last name needed, and he was ten when it happened. Makes him 27 now. And once he’s done talking it’ll be time for Anita to go off and do something important and related to the case. A meeting with RPIT and some newbie’s brought in by the department because it’s still not figured out. A forensic Para biologist and the information that Anita accessed the night before, including the file on Edward. She does her best to knock that one out of the running, but does bring up the fact that something in the psionic field would fit the bill. Telekinesis, as a matter of fact, but documented cases are few and far between so… Anita is instructed to take a trip to Chicago and the university there, which has one of the only research labs devoted to the psionic talents in the country.

11

Paid for trip to Chicago, short trip, make it last only one chapter in Chicago. Or not. Anita will bring up Edward while they’re there, because she managed to get Edward along on the trip. Edward denies anything psionic, and after Anita is taught a few things about telekinesis and things like that (bit about telepathy and pyrokinesis, and she’ll mention that she knows a clairvoyant, sort of) she’ll tell the research scientists that she thinks Edward is a telekinetic, and he’ll ask for back up on that theory. Edward will try and stop her from saying anything else, but she’ll just blurt out, “The Edward LAST NAME case.” And the scientist will immediately understand it and look at Edward and say that tests must be run. New section with various things done. Machines, electroencephalograph, EKG, things like that. Trying to make him use it, because the current of it can be detected on the ECG. And Anita says that perhaps they should find a gun range, because she has a theory. So they find one and she puts Edward to the test. And he’ll hit everything he aims at. And even the things he doesn’t. As a matter of fact, Anita will really put it to the test because she trusts Edward completely and utterly. She’ll go so far as to take the gun from him when he still claims that it’s just excellent marksmanship and luck. She’ll fire it on herself, and the bullet will hit the target. Thirty yards in the direction opposite of where the gun was pointed. And the last line of that chapter will read Anita saying, “Well, I think I proved my point.”

12

Back at the university with a very hunted looking Edward and half a dozen people in lab coats hovering around when Anita gets the call that there’s been another one, and she need to come back with what she has. So they leave and we’ll have them stopped at the Illinois/Missouri border by some vampires that didn’t take too kindly to the Executioner traveling through their lands without permission. And get even more pissed when they find out that she brought Death with her. She tries to talk her way out of it, having been on police business and all, but the leader declines saying that she has a history of wrecking things whenever she’s around, and since they’ve disarmed her and Edward there’s not terribly much that can be done when he makes a move to drink from her. To drain her. And she’ll try fighting, and end up screaming when he bites her, and that’s when Edward shall scream a choked, “No!” Leaders head will implode where he stands, and as Anita is dropped to the ground the bloodbath begins. Every last one of them is killed by a massive unseen force that literally pulverizes them from the inside out and the outside in. and when it’s over all that is left are piles of meat, a shaken Anita, and an unconscious Edward.

13

 

 

And then he became what he is-a cold, almost emotionless killer. Because the parts of him that could feel emotion- love, pity, hate- were locked into a place inside his mind where the knowledge of what he'd done and how he'd done it would never, ever resurface. All he truly remembers is that one day he woke in a bloody room having killed his family and the priest that was trying to "cleanse" him.

After all, haven't you ever wondered how he always manages to hit his target?

Because his mind tells the bullets where to go.


End file.
